


Many Happy Returns of the Day

by emluv



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-17
Updated: 2011-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emluv/pseuds/emluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt: What happens the first time Bones realizes what Jim's birthdays must have been like for him growing up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Many Happy Returns of the Day

Leonard McCoy expected to spend his first holiday as a cadet at the bottom of a bourbon bottle, so it came as something of a surprise to discover he had actually enjoyed the break. He owed most of it to Jim’s presence, he knew; it was damned difficult to succumb to depression with the kid around to jolly the misery right out of him. Jim had been there whenever Leonard got off shift at Starfleet Medical, dragging him on some field trip to explore the city now that they didn’t have classes taking up all their time. So instead of dwelling on the fact that he wasn’t in Georgia, Leonard froze his ass on a boat trip out to the old prison in the bay, laughing at Jim calling it “the rock” in a mangled imitation of some twentieth-century actor. While he missed his baby girl like crazy, he had fun shopping for jade beads and paper fans for her in Chinatown. Maybe the weather was all wrong, but it was hard to notice over ham and collard greens and pecan pie for Christmas dinner in some hidden-away restaurant that Jim had tracked down.

 

And if Jim Kirk was hiding from his own dreary thoughts by keeping his grumpy friend distracted, well, who was Leonard to mention it. He simply agreed when Jim suggested they forgo the various New Year’s parties, and sprang for the good Chinese takeout, knowing how Jim loved their spicy shrimp. At midnight they toasted the old year out, and good riddance—as far as Leonard could tell, his friendship with Jim was the only upside to the year. They welcomed 2256 with glasses of Woodford Reserve, and if it was something of a subdued start, well, Leonard had to be at the hospital by eight.

 

Then Jim disappeared. For the first time in more than a week, he wasn’t waiting when Leonard got off shift, nor was he back at the dorm. There were no messages, either, and when Leonard tried to comm him, he got his standard auto-greet. He checked out Jim’s typical haunts—the gym, the sim labs, the local bars he favored—but no one had seen him.

 

By Sunday night, Leonard was concerned. Remembrance Day was the next day, so cadets had filtered back onto campus all weekend in anticipation of the memorial services and classes resuming on Tuesday, yet Jim was nowhere to be found. He could understand Jim wanting to lie low for the official services—after all, the kid didn’t need a special day to remember his father’s sacrifice—but he could just as easily have holed up in his dorm room and set the privacy lock.

 

Monday dawned and brought with it a level of insanity that Leonard had never witnessed. Suddenly it occurred to him he had never spent Remembrance Day anywhere but Georgia, and the south had a proud, reverent history of honoring their dead that went back farther than a few short decades. His experiences of the day centered around prayers at church and subdued moments of silence, not the three-ring media circus that seemed to have blossomed around the Academy overnight. Press people with cameras and network vans surrounded the campus and aerial teams hovered just beyond Starfleet official air space. When he turned on the news feed, he found every frequency focused on the anniversary of the Kelvin. It was only when searching his PADD for something resembling a professional report that he discovered the reason for the escalation in press. Apparently Jim’s enlistment was big news when coupled with remembrance of George Kirk, Starfleet hero. **Kelvin Baby Comes Full Circle** declared one headline, and Leonard sank down at the foot of his bed, stomach roiling.

 

The Kelvin baby. Of course he knew the story, had even discussed it briefly with Jim about a week into the term, once he’d sobered up enough to connect Jim to his name, though that had been the only time the subject came up. But all weekend he had been considering this day in terms of that—of the sacrifice of George Kirk, made for his wife and newborn son and the eight hundred crew members who went on to survive the Kelvin’s destruction—without ever focusing on the part that related most particularly to his friend, Jim Kirk. Today was not just the anniversary of George Kirk’s sacrifice; it was the anniversary of Jim Kirk’s birth.

 

Leonard snatched up his comm and keyed in the kid’s number, praying that against all odds he would pick up this time. When his friendly automated voice came through the line, requesting that he leave a message, Leonard sighed and closed his eyes. When prompted, he paused a moment, unsure what to say.

 

“Aw, hell, kid,” he began finally. “It’s a zoo here, and I guess you knew it would be. I hope it’s quiet wherever you are. Just…know that I’m thinking about you. If you can’t answer this, at least come by when you get back to campus.” He paused again, hesitant. “Happy birthday, Jim.”

 

~*~

 

An hour after he had sent the message, Leonard got a simple text back. _Thanks, Bones. I’m okay._

 

Although it went a good distance toward lessening his worry for his friend, it did nothing to alleviate his sense of personal guilt. Jim had gone above and beyond to keep Leonard’s mind off his family and what he was missing the previous week, and it was piss-poor repayment for him not to realize what Jim himself had hovering over the horizon like an ominous thundercloud. He felt positively ill thinking what this day must be like for Jim, wondering if birthdays had ever been about him instead of the tragedy that overshadowed his arrival into the world.

 

Knowing that wherever he was, Jim was unlikely to return until evening at the earliest, Leonard headed out. He braved the crowds milling about campus, dodging the press who thankfully had no reason to link him to Jim, and steeled himself to take the shuttle downtown. Many shops were closed for the holiday, but a few intrepid souls were catering to the tourists and to the last minute shoppers expecting company following the memorials. As he made his way through the neighborhoods, he was disconcerted to discover that the memorial speeches were being broadcast through the streets, though given that San Francisco served as headquarters to Starfleet, he supposed it made a certain amount of sense. The names of the dead followed him as he ducked into stores, searching for something that spoke only of the living. So it was ironic that he found what he wanted in a small shop carrying antique paper books.

 

Leonard made one more quick stop on the way back to campus and then, running painfully low on credits, headed back to the dorm.

 

~*~

 

A dull thud woke Leonard from where he had dozed off on the couch while reading a medical journal. He jerked to a sitting position, just catching his PADD before it slid to the floor.

 

“Bones, you made me a cake.”

 

Leonard rubbed his eyes, bringing Jim into focus. His friend stood in front of the small table that doubled as a desk, his duffel at his feet, staring at Leonard. His expression was a mix of awe and joy and something painful that Leonard couldn’t quite identify.

 

“Happy birthday, kid. I hope it came out okay,” he said, gesturing toward the frosted concoction on the table “First thing I’ve tried to bake in this damn dorm oven.” He heaved himself to his feet and started bustling around the small kitchenette, getting plates and flicking on the coffee maker despite the late hour.

 

“I’m sure it’s great. No one’s baked me a cake since Grandma Kirk died.”

 

Leonard turned, brows raised. “When was that?”

 

Jim shrugged. “I was around six. Mom always got store bought after that. When she was home,” he added quietly. “She’s great at a lot of things, but baking’s not one of them.”

 

That put an end to Leonard’s hesitation regarding one final aspect of the birthday cake. He reached over and shoved a candle into the center of the cake, then quickly lit it. “I’ll spare ya the singing, but I think you can make a wish anyway.”

 

Jim glanced at him before dropping his gaze, but not before Leonard spotted the moisture in his eyes. He leaned forward and blew out the candle with a quick puff. “Mind if I go wash up first?” he asked, turning and heading for the fresher.

 

“Sure thing. I’ll just serve this up.”

 

When Jim returned he seemed his normal cheerful self. He grabbed his usual chair and sat down to the fluffy slice of chocolate cake with butter cream frosting that awaited him. Leonard sat opposite him, sipping at his coffee and smirking as his friend attacked his dessert with gusto.

 

“Mmm, Bones, man, this is awesome,” Jim enthused, shoveling another forkful into his mouth. “Best cake ever.”

 

“You eat any food the last few days? Take it easy, Jim. If you’re hungry I can get you something real.”

 

“No, Bones, I ate. It’s just delicious.”

 

“So where’ve you been hiding out? I was pretty worried there until I got your text.”

 

Jim laid his fork carefully on his now-empty plate, looking sheepish. “Yeah, sorry about that. I should have told you I was taking off, I just didn’t know until the last minute. Pike commed me Friday, suggested I might want to get the hell out of Dodge for a few days, make it harder for them to track me down. He let me stay at his house out in Mojave.”

 

“Well, that was nice of him. Still, you could have let me know once you were out there.”

 

“I know. I just…this time of year I generally just hole up somewhere. No one’s ever come looking before,” he murmured.

 

“Damnit, Jim, we just spent a week joined at the hip. Didn’t you think I’d notice when you up and vanished?”

 

Jim ran his hand through his hair. “I know, I know. I said I should have called. I’m sorry, okay?”

 

Realizing he had been leaning steadily forward, that he was on the verge of yelling, Leonard let out a long breath and sat back. “Okay, yes, I’m sorry. I was just concerned, is all.”

 

Jim shot him a shy smile. “Thanks for the cake, Bones. And for calling this morning.”

 

“Oh, I almost forgot. One more thing.” Leonard rose and went to get Jim’s gift from where he’d tucked it out of sight in the closet. “Here you go. Sorry about the lack of wrapping.” In lieu of proper gift wrap, Leonard had simply tied the shopping bag with a bow.

 

Jim’s eyes widened. “You got me a present?”

 

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

 

Jim shot him a look, as if to say that the one had very little to do with the other. Bottom lip caught between his teeth, he carefully untied the bow and opened the bag, peering into its depths as if afraid the contents might jump out at him. Then sheer delight spread over his face, and he reached in and pulled out the book.

 

“ _The Life of Reason_ by George Santayana,” he read off the cover. One side of his mouth quirked upward. “’Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’”

 

“I know you’ve got a good memory, Jim.”

 

“Like a steel trap.”

 

“That’s why all those media idiots have got it wrong,” Leonard said softly. “You’re your own man, Jim Kirk. And I’m glad to call you my friend.”

 

Jim’s eyes grew glossy once more, but this time he didn’t turn away. “Thanks, Bones. I’m glad you’re my friend, too.”

 


End file.
